


no light to obstruct you

by littlemagician



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 17:17:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3537629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemagician/pseuds/littlemagician
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His first thought is that Ricky is an asshole, because he should’ve said something, should’ve given him a heads up that the kid is, and there’s no other words for him, really fucking hot. He considers getting back on the bus, because he doesn’t know if he can handle the prospect of living with someone who looks that good, that effortlessly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	no light to obstruct you

He’s sitting on the couch with phone in hand when Cristiano comes back from the kitchen, two mugs in hand filled with much needed steaming coffee – he knows Cristiano is putting an all-nighter to finish something for the Sports magazine he works for, and Marcelo needs to stay up most of the night, too. He hands Marcelo one before slapping his feet off the coffee table with a rolled up piece of paper. 

“This one sounds good: two bedrooms, washer and dryer included… No AC, though.” Marcelo says after taking a sip of his mug. “Here, see it.” He gives his phone to Cristiano, who scrunches up his nose.

“No, Jesé lived there for a month and he says it’s disgusting. And I repeat, Jesé said that.” He gives him his phone back like it’s infected with something. Marcelo sighs. It was almost as if Cristiano didn’t want him to move out.

“Look, with the money I make, I can’t be too picky. Do you want me out or not?” He shrugs, and the question makes Cristiano roll his eyes.

“I don’t want you out, Marce, Jesus. It’s just- You know,” 

“I know, I didn’t meant it like that. I love you guys, and I wish you and Ricky the best in this living together thing, but I don’t exactly want to live with you two either. It’s all good.” And it really is. It’s been a month since Ricky came back from Orlando, and to no one’s surprise, they decided that after years of a long distance relationship, they were finally going to move in together. 

Marcelo’s happy for them. Cristiano is his better half, and he loves Ricky like a brother – and he knows that if he really needed to stay they would let him – but just the thought of sleeping in a room across from theirs makes Marcelo want to run. 

“Good. I’m still not letting you move into that.”Cristiano says decidedly.

“Okay, whatever. Let’s focus on finding me a place I can afford without having to eat that five bucks pizza from the place two blocks away for lunch everyday.”

“Well, you can always--”

He stops Cristiano before he can continue, forefinger poking his chest. “If you say I can come back to eat your food I’m going to seriously punch you in the face. You know I will.”

Cristiano looks at him like he can see through his bullshit, but it’s honestly no bullshit at all. He appreciates everything his best friend does for him, but relying on someone is different than depending on them. He just can’t. He finishes his coffee and heads to his room, strapping the guitar case on one shoulder and a backpack on the other.

“Anyway, I’m off to the bar. I’m playing until 2, and then I’m probably closing, too, so I won’t be back until morning.” 

“They have you playing and mixing drinks, but are they even paying you for both?” Cris knows the answer to that, but Marcelo doesn’t feel like getting an earful of how he deserves better, especially not from Cris, who already pays for two thirds of their rent. It’s Saturday, he gets to play for a small crowd and that always gets him in a good mood. Cristiano worries about him too much.

“Good luck on your writing thing.” He says over his shoulder after grabbing his copy of the keys and leaving.

-

Ricky is there when he gets back in the morning, looking ridiculous and straight out of a TV ad, standing on the kitchen with an apron on and a book in hand.

“Hey, good morning,” He greets Marcelo, who raises an eyebrow at his attempt at cooking. Ricky smiles sheepishly.

“What is that?” Marcelo thinks it’s cute, but he’s not eating it. Leave it to Cris to pretend Ricky can do anything besides boiling water. 

“I have the day off, and Cris doesn’t, you know. He’s been working all night and I thought I’d make him breakfast before he has to be up again, but I’m failing miserably.” Marcelo, damn his soft spot for cute domestic acts, feels bad for him.

“I can see that,” Marcelo laughs, heading to his room to put his guitar away, and then going back into the kitchen. He washes his hands and puts on a headband to get all the hair out of his eyes. Ricky looks at him with a puzzled expression.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m helping you.” Marcelo answers simply, already getting to work.

“No, Marcelo, you were up all night too. It’s okay, really.” He throws Ricky a look that means ‘Yeah, sure it is’, and starts trying to save the pancakes, giving Ricky the easiest tasks and not letting him anywhere near the frying pan.

“But that’s exactly what I was doing!”

“It really, really wasn’t.” Marcelo laughs.

Ricky starts cleaning up after they finish, saying it’s the least he could do to thank him. Marcelo starts setting the table for two. “Aren’t you eating?” Ricky asks while drying the dishes.

“Nah, I’m good, I’ll get something when I wake up.” He’s heading over to his room when Ricky speaks again.

“Oh wait, I almost forgot. Have you found a place yet?” Ricky asks, and Marcelo throws him a look between a glare and a pout. “No, I didn’t mean--”

“You’re too easy, it’s hilarious.” Marcelo puts a hand over his mouth to muffle his laugh so he doesn’t wake Cristiano up. Kaká is above rolling his eyes, so he just shakes his head at Marcelo, instead.

“It’s just that there’s an intern at the hospital looking for a housemate to split his apartment’s rent with. He’s nice, Brazilian too. Maybe you should take a look.” Ricky looks hopeful, not in an ‘I really want you out of here’ hopeful, because Ricky doesn’t have malice like that, but more in a ‘this guy is nice and I think it could work’ way. Marcelo trusts Ricky, so he nods.

“Sure, give me his number. I’ll call him when I wake up.”

**** -

When he does wake up, a couple hours before the sun goes down, both Cristiano and Ricky are gone. There are post-its stuck on his door, one yellow and one blue. Cristiano’s say:  _ ‘Lock the door when you leave, Ricky and I are going out tonight.’ _  Ricky’s say:  _ ‘There’s Chinese on the fridge. Also, his name is Lucas. Call him.’ _  and a number written below. He never has the heart to tell Ricky he hates Chinese food, because he’s always considerate to order him some whenever he’s around. He plucks the one with the number out of the door and types it down in his phone. It’s not before he’s already calling that he realizes maybe this Lucas guy is in the middle of a shift.

“Hola?” He hears the voice say in accented Spanish. It’s a nice voice.

“Sorry, Hi, this is Marcelo,” He says in Portuguese. There’s no response for a few awkward seconds. “Ricky told me to call? I can call some other time if it’s not a good one, or-“

“Oh right, sorry. You’re calling about the apartment, right?” He sounds shy, and Marcelo wonders if it’s just a bad time to call or if he’s one of those people who hates talking on the phone.

“Yes! Are you working right now?”

“No, I start in one hour, though,” Marcelo’s about to tell him again that he can call him later, but Lucas beats him to it. “Listen, I got time, if you can make it to the hospital in fifteen? I won’t leave for 30 hours after I go in, so...”

Marcelo knows the hospital is not very far from Cristiano’s place, and if he’s quick he can make it in ten. “Holy shit, man. Yeah, I’ll be there, don’t worry.”

Lucas chuckles at his surprise. “There’s a food truck across the street, can you meet me there?” Marcelo thinks junk food sounds perfect. He really hates Chinese.

“Count me in.”

-

Lucas is already there when Marcelo arrives, or at least Marcelo thinks it’s him. He’s got his hands shoved inside his pockets and he’s biting on his lower lip; he’s also the only person next to a food truck who looks like he’s waiting for someone.

His first thought is that Ricky is an asshole, because he should’ve said something, should’ve given him a heads up that the kid is, and there’s no other words for him, really fucking hot. Not only that, but he’s standing there, looking unfairly good in just a plain blue shirt that clings way too nicely to him and regular jeans. 

He looks awfully young, too, despite the scruff, and his hair looks soft and a bit messy, but charming. He considers getting back on the bus, because he doesn’t know if he handle the idea of living with someone who looks that good, that effortlessly. 

He needs to take one of the team, though. For Cris and Ricky.

“Hey, Lucas?” He tries as he approaches the kid, who turns to him at the mention of his name. Okay, that was definitely really him.

“Hi, you’re Marcelo, then?” He extends his hand for Marcelo to shake. Marcelo puts on his best smile, the one that gets him nice tips from customers at the bar.

“That’s me,” He shakes his Lucas’ hand. “Are you getting something to eat? Say yes. I neglected Chinese for this, and I’m starving.”

"God, sorry, I didn’t mean to be inconvenient--,” He sounds genuinely guilty for getting between Marcelo and his meal. Marcelo thinks he’d have fun messing with him on a daily basis.

“That’s ok, I hate Chinese anyway.” He laughs, and counts as a victory when Lucas nods, laughs along. Good. 

“Come on then, I’ll pay.” Lucas offers, still awfully polite and trying to make it up to him. Marcelo really wants to be a better person than that, but he’s short on money and not about to deny free food from a cute guy. Even if said guy had could be his off-limits, possibly straight housemate that Marcelo would only see a few hours a week. 

They get hot dogs and sodas, and Lucas point to a bench where they can sit. They eat and talk, although Lucas is a much less messy eater than Marcelo, who sees no point in pretending he’s not, given they could already be sharing a place in a week. 

From up close, he can see the bags under Lucas’ eyes. He has really nice eyes, too. He learns he’s the youngest intern at the hospital, that he graduated in Brazil but got the chance to be an intern in Madrid and couldn’t just pass it on. 

Marcelo tells him he’s an aspiring musician, but most of the time he’s a bartender, and it’s nice that Lucas doesn’t seem to judge him for that – if he does, he’s good at hiding it. Marcelo just doesn’t think he seems like the type.

He shows Marcelo some pictures of the place, and it’s way nicer than he expected - in fact, it looks like  it’s more than he can pay for, although Lucas assured him that what Marcelo’s price range pretty much covers it.

“Are you sure? Are we splitting in half?” Marcelo eyes him suspiciously.

“Not exactly,” Lucas says, and talks over Marcelo when he notices he’s about to protest. “But hey, it’s not like I’m paying much more than you. Besides, I’d rather have a friend of a friend as a housemate. And I can complain to Kaká about you.” Lucas offers him a shy smile.

“Are you planning on complaining about me to Ricky?” Marcelo squints at him. He likes this kid already.

“I don’t know, are you planning on being an awful housemate?” 

“I’ll be the greatest housemate you can ask for,” Marcelo’s smile widens, and he crosses his heart. “Promise.”

Lucas takes a key from his backpack, throws it to Marcelo. “You can take a look today, or tomorrow, whatever works.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to wait until you’re home? For all you know, I could be a psychopath. Or a criminal.” Marcelo smirks, but takes the key anyway.

“Really smart of you to use Nurse Ricardo as a lure, if you are one.” Lucas raises an eyebrow. 

“I know, he so trustworthy, right?” Marcelos laughs, because he just thinks Lucas is amusing like that, or maybe because he that’s all he can do talking to cute guys.

"It’s okay, I’ll probably be too tired to show you around, sorry. If everything’s decided after you see the place, you can move in your stuff on Friday. That’s when I get the whole day off, so I can help .” He looks at his watch and gets up. “I gotta go.”

Marcelo shoves the keys in his pocket and watches as Lucas rushes to the hospital. He’s either really lucky or really fucked.

-

He drags Cristiano out of his office during his lunch break, making him drive them both to Lucas’ place. The apartment is just as nice as the pictures, and Marcelo starts to think Cristiano’s boyfriend is some sort of saint because the whole thing is a miracle work. Except for the fact that Lucas makes it to the top 5 hottest people Marcelo’s ever met, so living with him be a daily test of his self control. 

He tells Cristiano, so while his best friend inspects every little corner of the apartment, deciding if he deems the place worthy of Marcelo or whatever.

“Okay, the place is really nice, you have my blessing.” He says, sitting on Lucas’ couch, soon to be Marcelo’s couch, too. “So, how’s Lucas?”

"Yeah, he’s great. Just great. He’s fine.” Marcelo shrugs. Cristiano’s eyes go wide, like Marcelo had said something absurd.

“Oh no, Marcelo,” He says, face contorted in disapproval. “No. He’s going to be your housemate, for god’s sake.” He has no clue about how the hell Cristiano knows he’s got a little tiny bit of a crush already, but he does. He’s annoying and a know-it-all.

“I haven’t even said anything!” Marcelo defends himself, and poorly for what it counts.

“You didn’t have to! The look on your face, though. Honestly, Marcelo–” He’s probably going to launch himself on a speech about how the apartment is nice, and they’re going to be living together and anything besides being friends could fuck that up.

“I know. He’s just– He’s like, really hot. It’s all Ricky’s fault, to be honest, he should’ve given me a heads up on that.” Cristiano rolls his eyes at him.  “I’ll get over it in a week, don’t worry, I just need to get used to his face. I got used to yours, didn’t I? Did I ever jump you?” He grins at Cristiano, knowing he wins this one.

"Sure, point taken,” He shrugs, cracking a smile.

-

They move his stuff into Lucas’ place on the Friday afternoon, after Cristiano leaves work an hour earlier to help. Marcelo gets their neighbor Isco to cover his shift at the bar, and it doesn’t take much convincing after he mentions James will be working the same shift. Lucas has the day off, unlike Kaka, so he helps too. Cris makes a point of throwing him a look whenever Marcelo starts to get too flirty with Lucas, which is totally unfair, because Marcelo treats everyone like that. Especially his friends. They were supposed to be friends, right? He wants to ask Cristiano to let him live.

It’s a little past eleven when they finish, and Marcelo feels awful when he notices how tired Lucas probably is; (He doesn’t give Cristiano much thought, because he was built like a wall and would probably have moved everything twice as fast if he was alone. Also, he was Marcelo’s best friend, that was basically his second job.)

“Sorry for that, I didn’t realize how much stuff I had,” He gives Lucas an apologetic smile. After Cristiano leaves, they find themselves sweaty, sprawled on the floor in front of Marcelo’s TV. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Lucas brushes him off with a pat on the shoulder. “I’m taking a shower first, if you don’t mind.”

“Dude, it’s your place,” He says out of instinct.

“If you hadn’t noticed, you live here too, now.” Lucas rolls his eyes, but there’s a little smile on the corner of his lips that Marcelo notices, but also proceeds on ignoring it because, no. No. Bad thoughts. “Buy us dinner if you want to thank me.” He says, throwing a towel around his shoulders before getting inside the bathroom.

Marcelo dials the only Brazilian restaurant in town that he can afford and it doesn’t taste like a bad imitation of real food. He’s almost dozing off when he hears the sounds of the bathroom’s door being opened, and sees Lucas getting out. Shirtless. With nothing on but a towel wrapped around his waist, and water still dripping from his hair, down his chest and abs.

Marcelo buries in face in his hands. That was all Kaká’s fault.

“Shower’s free.” He says casually, barely even looking at Marcelo. Which is good, because he probably looked like an idiot. Marcelo lets himself breath out heavily after Lucas closes the door to his room.

He pushes the thought of a shirtless Lucas out of his mind, no matter how nice a body he hid under his clothes, not built like Cristiano, but he did look like someone who took time to exercise. 

When he gets in the shower, he chooses to take a cold one.

Food arrives shortly after Marcelo’s already dressed, sitting on the couch besides Lucas, who’s full on lying down and absolutely refuses to answer the door, move, or take his eyes off the Grey’s Anatomy re-runs on TV. Lucas kicks him to make him get up.

“Bossy.” Marcelo comments, but gets up anyway.

They eat and make comments about the show in between bites, and Lucas looks more comfortable with him than on their first meeting almost a week before. Marcelo smiles to himself. They set some rules for a peaceful co-existence, like Marcelo trying to not play music too loud when Lucas was getting his rare sleep; Lucas being fine with doing the dishes because he’s a clean freak and Marcelo hates doing it; but if Lucas’ makes the list he volunteers to do grocery shopping and cooking.

It’s nice. It feels like they’re going to fit together just fine.

-

Lucas is gone when Marcelo wakes up, and he’s a little disappointed, even though he expected it. There’s a copy of Lucas’s schedule stuck to the fridge, along with a note that says:  _ ‘sorry if i made too much noise when i left. i’ll back at nine - L’ _ .  Whatever noise Lucas must’ve made at four in the morning, Marcelo wouldn’t be bothered, because he could sleep through an earthquake. He makes a mental note to tell Lucas that, but realizes he’ll be gone by the time Lucas arrives, and they’re probably not going to be home at the same time until the next day. 

He takes the paper and writes underneath Lucas’ words:  _ ‘don’t worry, i sleep like a rock.’ _

It’s almost midday when he decides he’s not having anything less than a nice home cooked meal for lunch, so he visits the store two blocks away from the building and buys the best ingredients he finds, replaces some others he can’t. 

He prepares the black beans like his mother taught him, imitating feijoada, but less elaborated. He makes rice and steak, and it’s simple, but it’ll do. Lucas will probably appreciate it, too. He eats and does his dishes reluctantly, puts the leftovers in a container for Lucas and adds a  _ ‘there’s food inside’ _  on the note stuck to the fridge. 

And then, nothing. He suddenly has the apartment to himself, and there’s not much to do.

It was different, living with Cristiano. He was around a lot, because they allowed him to work from home as long as he delivered his work, which he always did, and Ricky almost lived there already since he came back. Isco was there a lot, too, just for the sake of being there.

Marcelo likes being surrounded by people, he really does, and he was a loud person himself, but he figures he likes this, too. He grabs his guitar and plays until he leaves for the bar.

-

They settle in living together easily. The first month is uneventful, and they don’t disagree much or ever fight, except when Marcelo leaves a mess wherever he goes – however, he makes an effort to always clean up after himself. Cristiano gets jealous and asks Lucas what kind of spell he put on him.

They don’t see each other often, though. Most the time Lucas leaves for his shift at the hospital before Marcelo comes back from his at the bar. Sometimes they see each other briefly in the morning or evening, but someone is always rushing out. There are also the times when one is sleeping, and the other doesn’t want to wake them up.

However, even when they’re not home at the same time, it’s sort of impossible not to get to know someone better just by existing with them on daily basis. Marcelo picks up on little things, like the way Lucas doesn’t like to keep the curtains closed in the mornings, or how despite his cleaning obsession he likes to drink juice straight from the bottle, and how he prefers when Marcelo cooks instead of just ordering take out, but never straight up asks him to do so.

They cook together when they can, because he likes it when Marcelo’s teaching him, and he opens up more. He tells him about his family and laughs with less reservations, and Marcelo even discovers his hidden, sharp sense of humor, with the way he’s quick to keep up with Marcelo’s banter, deadpanning his way through it. They watch football matches, and Marcelo makes it his mission to get Lucas to support Real Madrid. 

They seem to fit aspects of each other’s lives better than they thought they would, and by the second month Marcelo is convinced he’s over his crush.

(So much for a week, Cris reprimands. Marcelo pretends he has no idea what he’s talking about).

It’s all fine until it’s not.

-

“Ok, I’ve got Skyfall, because I can’t believe you haven’t see the best Bond movie after GoldenEye. There’s also this horror movie, it’s shit but it’s the go-to if you don’t want to think much.” He says, flipping through his Netflix list, a bowl of popcorn in hands.

When he looks up, though, he sees Lucas, phone in hand and dressed up nice. Very, very nicely. His hair looks fresh off the shower and Marcelo wants to comb his fingers through it. He’s wearing jeans tighter than the one he usually wears, and a button up black shirt that clings very nicely to his torso. He’s wearing perfume, too, which he rarely does, but he smells good enough that Marcelo notices from a distance.

“Well, you didn’t have to dress up for me, it’s just a movie,” Marcelo jokes, and Lucas looks at him guiltily.

“Sorry, I forgot to tell you,” He licks his lips and Marcelo has trouble assimilating his words, because, you know, the act is totally disgusting and not at all attractive. “I sort of have a date.”

A date. With someone. Lucas has a date with someone.

“Oh. Have fun, man. I won’t wait up, then.” Marcelo smiles at him because yeah, whatever. He had a date. It was bound to happen sometime, Lucas was great; he was cute and ridiculously hot and easy to be around. He was quiet and caring and crazy smart. Marcelo was happy for his friend, really.

Really.

“I’m really sorry I forgot to say tell you.” He bites his bottom lip almost sheepishly. 

“It’s okay, really. It’ll be good for you, go get some.” He pats Lucas on the shoulder and settles himself on the couch, because that’s what friends do.

“I barely know him,” Lucas mutters, colour rising to his cheeks. Marcelo wonders if asking ‘who’s him’ is something a friend with total platonic intentions would ask. 

He doesn’t have to, it turns out, because apparently Lucas feels like it _is_ something he should know. “He’s a lawyer. He, um, does some legal work for the hospital.”

“Cool, I hope he’s nice,” Marcelo thinks he nailed it, being nonchalant. Lucas, however, looks like there’s something else he wants to say, but decides against it. He wishes him a goodnight and leaves.

Marcelo sighs. He doesn’t know how long he pretends that he can spend the rest of the night alone, but doesn’t want to find out, either. He ends up calling James, who was in a good mood as often as Marcelo himself, and he needed that at the moment.

-

The knock on the door wakes him up, and he realizes he had dozed off on the couch after James left. He checks his phone, and the screen telling him it was two in the morning. He drags himself to the door, and Lucas is there when he opens it.

“I forgot my keys, I’m so sorry,” He murmurs apologetically. Marcelo waves him off, rubbing the sleep off his eyes.

“How was it?” He asks.

“It was nice.” Lucas shrugs.

“Will there be a second date?” He asks before he can stop himself. Lucas doesn’t answer right away, looking at Marcelo’s face like he’s searching for something. Or maybe Marcelo’s just imagining, his eyes are barely open.

“I don’t know.” He shrugs again. “Night, ‘Celo.”

-

“You,” James points at him, preparing passion fruit Margaritas like art. “Need to go out.”

Cristiano, who’s sitting on the customer side of the bar nursing a bottle of water, throws his hands up dramatically. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’ve been saying, thank you kid.”

“He never listens to me, though,” James shrugs.

“But he listens to me,” Cristiano takes a long sip of his bottle, Marcelo suspects it’s for cliff hanging effect. “Marcelo here has to go out. Meet people. Hang out with someone besides us, or Lucas.”

“I work at a bar, I meet people every day.” Marcelo shrugs, then asks for a customer’s name and introduces himself to make a point, handing the guy his shot of Jack. “See? That was me. Meeting people.”

“That doesn’t count though, does it?” James eyes him suspiciously.

“It does for you, right? I heard you’ve been texting Isco a lot, recently.” Marcelo knows he won this round, because Cristiano’s attention turns to James, smirk on his face a promise that James is not going to have another moment of peace.

“Isco, as in my neighbor, Isco?” Cristiano raises a perfectly modelled eyebrow. James turns a worryingly shade of red, all the way from his cheeks to his neck.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He says, turning back his attention to cutting up lemons in pieces.

“Hm, okay,” Cristiano hums. “It’s fine, don’t tell me. I’m sure we can ask him in about an hour, since he said he’s coming by later with Ricky.”

James almost drops a whole bottle of Absolute Vodka on the ground.

-

He’s sitting on floor, back leaning against the couch and guitar in hand, not waiting for Lucas. No. Because contrary to his friends’ popular belief, his life didn’t revolve around him anymore than it did around Cristiano’s, for example. 

_ (‘It’s normal, we live together,’ he’d told Isco defensively, and considered purposefully spilling soda on his brand new couch. ‘Look at Cris and Ricky,’ Isco had snorted at that, swallowing his pizza before saying ‘Cris and Ricky suck each other’s dicks, though.’) _

The last few months had been good for him, he’d been having days of inspiration and writing new songs, and he would like very much to ignore the possibility that it had anything to do with Lucas. It didn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter.

He’s distracted by the sound of his guitar, too absorbed trying to the get the tempo of the song just the way he wants, singing parts of the lyrics. There’s a sound of someone clearing their throats, and he looks up to find Lucas leaning against the wall, arms crossed and small smile on the corner of his lips.

“Hey, I didn’t hear you coming in,” Marcelo swallows, ignores the heat rising to his face.

"I didn’t want to interrupt,” Lucas explains. “I had never heard you sing before.”

Marcelo looks at him like he’s insane. “Of course you have, I sing all the time!”

Lucas backs away from the wall and goes to his room, but is back within 2 minutes without his backpack and with sweatpants on. He lies down on the couch, taking all the free space. When Marcelo leans back to his previous position, his head rests again Lucas’ hip instead of the edge of the couch, but he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, Lucas’ places one of his hands at the nape on his neck, playing with his hair.

“You whistle while you’re cooking, and you tap your fingers on every surface to the rhythm of whatever song you have stuck on your mind, but I swear I had never heard you really sing before.” Lucas says, picking up the conversation where they left off. When Marcelo eyes him suspiciously, he adds, “I would’ve remembered it.”

“Huh,” Marcelo says, trying not to feel self-conscious about it.

“I like it.” Lucas says quietly. It’s annoying that sometime he answers Marcelo’s questions before he even makes them, except not really, because everything he says to Marcelo is thoughtful and cute and makes Marcelo want to slap his own face. “Sing for me, come on.”

“It’s not finished,” Marcelo tries to back out, because this was all a bit too intimate, even for him. And he doesn’t understand, because he does this, he likes being physical and hugging and kissing his friends, he does it, but not _  this. _

“I don’t mind.” Lucas reassures him. 

So he sings, because he’s weak and doesn’t have the heart to deny him, and Lucas falls asleep a few minutes later.

It starts to happen frequently, and Marcelo tries not to think much of it. He sings when Lucas is tired and has a bad day at the hospital until he falls asleep, he sings in the mornings they manage to get breakfast together, after Lucas comes back from his morning run and Marcelo is comes back from the bar. 

Breakfast starts being a thing, too, because they unconsciously notice that mornings are the time they manage to be together at the same place most frequently, and even in his days off Marcelo sometimes wakes up early just for that, just to have breakfast because he’s probably not going to see Lucas for two days straight.

He even runs with him whenever they can, and Marcelo starts believing James and Cristiano, then. He really, truly needs to go out and on a date, because he’s fucked. He’s honest to god doomed, and this thing, him getting way to comfortable and spending way too much time with Lucas only – It couldn’t do him any good.

-

He tries. He goes out on a date with one of Ricky’s Brazilian friends, because the man had the time to be a saint in his job and also be friends with the whole population of Brazilians living in Spain. 

His name was Thiago, and Marcelo liked him, truly, but they end up bonding more as friends than anything else, and there was also the fact that Thiago was still hung up on someone living far away from him.

A month later he meets Clarice, sister of a guy he plays guitar with sometimes. She’s beautiful, smart and funny; she’s an actress and matches his sense of humor, and she’s talented and passionate about her job.

There’s a first, and a second, and a third date, and when he loses count, Marcelo thinks, this is it. _She’s it_. He introduces her to Cristiano and Ricky, the closes thing in Spain he had to a family, and that’s the first big step.

They have dinner at his and Lucas’ place, because she insisted that not even all of them together would scare her off. Isco doesn’t believe any of them, not even when he sees Clarice, because he refuses to accept Marcelo is that lucky. 

James adores her, too, and asks her a million of questions about what is it like being an actress, and she answers them all with endless patience and passion, because James is genuinely interested in everyone’s happiness

. Lucas is reserved, but Marcelo knows he’s like that with everyone when they first meet, but he laughs at her jokes, indulges her when she asks him about what is it like living with Marcelo, and he lets out a breath he hadn’t even realized was stuck in his throat.

It’s late when they all leave, including Clarice, and Marcelo feels warm and and just genuinely happy with no reservations.

“She’s really great,” Lucas says, putting a hand on his shoulder, and there’s intent in his voice, like he wants Marcelo to truly see it’s genuine. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks, man,” Marcelo nods, his smile widening and threatening to split his face in half. He pulls Lucas in for a hug, and he’s slightly taller than Marcelo, but enough to make him bend down a little to indulge him. “It means a lot to me.” Marcelo says against the fabric of his shirt.

Everything feels like it’s going to be fine. The following four months are one of the best he’s ever had, and Marcelo has never been a negative person, he was never the one who kept expecting things to go wrong. 

That’s why it hits him full force when it happens.

  
They had been dating for almost five months when Clarice has to leave.

**Author's Note:**

> there's more to come. i have no explanation or excuse for this, but i truly hope you enjoyed it so far. comments are very much appreciated.


End file.
